scheme is.
And we don’t know that yet.
For me, the single most important fact about A Song of Ice and Fire is that it will end. Daenerys Targaryen will have a last scene and a last word. Because of my participation in this project, I know the fate of several major characters, and have a good idea of the final plot arc. Even so, the details of where the many, many characters end—where, in fact, Westeros itself ends—aren’t all available to me. They may not even be available to George.
My experience writing my own novels suggests that even at this late stage in the project, the best writers are in an ongoing process of discovery. Even with the last scenes firmly in mind, the process of reaching that place is full of surprises. Some of the ideas and intentions for The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring will change in the telling of the tale, because that is the inevitable process of creation. Especially as we near the end, the events at the beginning will take on new significance. Prophecies will unfold in ways that may be as surprising to the author as they are to the reader. Things that are foreshadowed will come to be, or else they won’t. Until the ending comes, recreating Westeros—adding new characters, remaking old ones, taking action from perspectives different from those already in the books—isn’t an act of translation or adaptation. It’s just making things up.
It’s possible that once the whole project is complete, a faithful adaptation could be done at some greater level of abstraction. The story of Tyrion Lannister could be rewritten in a way that serves the same overall function in this different medium. The effect of Viserys’s or Drogo’s deaths on Daenerys could be reached in some other way that was still true to the character that she is presently still in the process of becoming. Until the tale is told through to its ending, those deeper levels are still unavailable for judgment or consideration. Recreating Westeros as George intends it to be may not always be impossible, but it is at the moment.
I remember reading an essay about the art of copying paintings, especially as it is practiced in China. The epitome of that art, the writer argued, was the invisibility of the copier. Ideally, the reproduction and the original should be indistinguishable. I’ve thought about that aesthetic often in the course of adapting A Game of Thrones . In most of my professional career, my job has been to create and present my own vision as clearly and powerfully as I could. I like to think that my own novels carry my vision to readers in ways that are idiosyncratic to me. I imagine myself as the painter of some original work. In adapting, I become a copier.
The constraints on how I can do it are real. I have chosen to age Daenerys up to match our legal standards, even though it means telling the story of an immature, controlled, and sheltered young woman rather than a powerful, exploited, and complex child. I have summarized conversations and removed exposition that worked very well in the book because I thought it wouldn’t work in the new format. I’ve reordered some chapters and actions to better fit the page counts of the comic books and the collected graphic novels. But the guiding principle is always—and necessarily—that the reader of this new work see Tommy Patterson’s art and George R.R. Martin’s story. My job is to be invisible. If no one sees or considers the decisions I’ve made and instead they fall into George’s story and Tommy’s art, I will have succeeded.
DANIEL ABRAHAM is the nationally bestselling author of thirteen novels and thirty short stories, including the critically acclaimed Long Price Quartet and Hunter’s Run (with George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois). He also writes as M.L.N. Hanover and (with Ty Franck) as James S.A. Corey. He has been nominated for the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Awards, and been awarded the International Horror Guild
And we don’t know that yet.
For me, the single most important fact about A Song of Ice and Fire is that it will end. Daenerys Targaryen will have a last scene and a last word. Because of my participation in this project, I know the fate of several major characters, and have a good idea of the final plot arc. Even so, the details of where the many, many characters end—where, in fact, Westeros itself ends—aren’t all available to me. They may not even be available to George.
My experience writing my own novels suggests that even at this late stage in the project, the best writers are in an ongoing process of discovery. Even with the last scenes firmly in mind, the process of reaching that place is full of surprises. Some of the ideas and intentions for The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring will change in the telling of the tale, because that is the inevitable process of creation. Especially as we near the end, the events at the beginning will take on new significance. Prophecies will unfold in ways that may be as surprising to the author as they are to the reader. Things that are foreshadowed will come to be, or else they won’t. Until the ending comes, recreating Westeros—adding new characters, remaking old ones, taking action from perspectives different from those already in the books—isn’t an act of translation or adaptation. It’s just making things up.
It’s possible that once the whole project is complete, a faithful adaptation could be done at some greater level of abstraction. The story of Tyrion Lannister could be rewritten in a way that serves the same overall function in this different medium. The effect of Viserys’s or Drogo’s deaths on Daenerys could be reached in some other way that was still true to the character that she is presently still in the process of becoming. Until the tale is told through to its ending, those deeper levels are still unavailable for judgment or consideration. Recreating Westeros as George intends it to be may not always be impossible, but it is at the moment.
I remember reading an essay about the art of copying paintings, especially as it is practiced in China. The epitome of that art, the writer argued, was the invisibility of the copier. Ideally, the reproduction and the original should be indistinguishable. I’ve thought about that aesthetic often in the course of adapting A Game of Thrones . In most of my professional career, my job has been to create and present my own vision as clearly and powerfully as I could. I like to think that my own novels carry my vision to readers in ways that are idiosyncratic to me. I imagine myself as the painter of some original work. In adapting, I become a copier.
The constraints on how I can do it are real. I have chosen to age Daenerys up to match our legal standards, even though it means telling the story of an immature, controlled, and sheltered young woman rather than a powerful, exploited, and complex child. I have summarized conversations and removed exposition that worked very well in the book because I thought it wouldn’t work in the new format. I’ve reordered some chapters and actions to better fit the page counts of the comic books and the collected graphic novels. But the guiding principle is always—and necessarily—that the reader of this new work see Tommy Patterson’s art and George R.R. Martin’s story. My job is to be invisible. If no one sees or considers the decisions I’ve made and instead they fall into George’s story and Tommy’s art, I will have succeeded.
DANIEL ABRAHAM is the nationally bestselling author of thirteen novels and thirty short stories, including the critically acclaimed Long Price Quartet and Hunter’s Run (with George R.R. Martin and Gardner Dozois). He also writes as M.L.N. Hanover and (with Ty Franck) as James S.A. Corey. He has been nominated for the Hugo, Nebula, and World Fantasy Awards, and been awarded the International Horror Guild
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